Romeo & Juliet
by SawManiac211
Summary: Sequal to 'Turning Over...' So, Hoffman and Amanda are finally together...but we all know there isn't a happy ending. What went so wrong? Quotes from Romeo & Juliet, again based on SeaSaw's stuff - read 'em! Again, please R&R! BTW 'exeunt' means 'exit' :
1. Act I

"_**Two households, both alike in dignity...**__**From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,  
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean."**_

_Narrator, Prologue_

* * *

"_**My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee...**__**Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin."**_

_Sampson, Act I Scene I_

It was – unusually – quiet.

For once, no-one was arguing or pissing each other off. However, that could be because Michelle and John were picking up a test subject.

And because Hoffman and Amanda had become..._distracted_.

It almost scared Amanda sometimes, the amount of passion Hoffman showed for her. He was showing it now, pressing her almost too tightly to him, his tongue almost too dominant.

But she liked it, this scared thrill. Because it only showed to her how hard he had fallen for her, how much he needed her.

It made her feel slightly better about how hard she'd fallen for him.

"You enjoying yourself?" Hoffman broke the kiss and searched Amanda's face.

"Hmm...Could do better." Amanda goaded him, pressing her face to his. "Why do you ask?"

Hoffman smirked. "You're not making as much noise as usual, that's all."

Amanda flushed from a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment; she hated it when Hoffman pointed out how seemingly weak she was. She wanted to be strong, calm, collected – even in sex.

Like John...

But something about Hoffman made her fall to pieces ever time.

"I don't do that all the time...just...in bed..." Amanda hated how pitiful and childish the words sounded coming out of her own mouth.

Hoffman ran his tongue down the side of her neck and grinned. "Oh, I'm that good, am I?"

Amanda realised that she'd unintentionally paid him a compliment. "No, it only proves how utterly _crap_ you are; you can only do anything when you're fucking someone. Otherwise, you're hopeless."

"Well, then." Hoffman leaned in. "I'm going to need some practice aren't I."

"Hoffman, John said we need to finish these by the time he gets back, we've hardly fucking _started_! We don't have time to – mmph!" Amanda tried to find the strength to break away, but again her weakness for him caused her to fall apart and bend to his will. She felt his hands slip up her top and a slight groan left her lips before she could stop it. The kisses that had – if possible – been more passionate than 'the last batch' stopped, and Amanda opened her eyes to see Hoffman smirking at her.

"I think we can agree that _that_ wasn't in complete silence."

Amanda glared at the detective. "You cheated; you were feeling me up under my –"

Hoffman turned away. "Aww, don't all stressy with me 'Mandy! You know you love me really."

She stared hard at his back and imagined him turning into a brilliant ball of flames. Why she had saved him that day when they were both tested she had no idea; sometimes she wished she had simply watched him succumb to the poison coursing through his veins.

It would've been so simple; it would've stopped the confusion Amanda felt inside.

Would've left her with one path instead of two.

But she always knew, deep down, that Hoffman was right; she loved him really.

More than she wanted to admit, or let herself admit.

It wasn't just heartache that made her 'accidently' leave those handcuffs lying around...

The two of them heard someone enter the warehouse.

"Shit!" Hoffman dived at the barely-started drawings of trap ideas and knocked over a pencil pot. He shot a look at Amanda. "What the hell are you waiting for? Act like we've actually bloody done something!"

"No so confident now, are you?" Amanda smirked as she walked leisurely over to him, sat down and picked up a pencil.

They had just got into an argument about which way up the plans were meant to be when Michelle walked in. The two of them exchanged a look and smirked; they hadn't done _exactly _anything for the past three hours...

"Lover's tiff?" Michelle sneered; she'd heard them arguing. She'd developed a black-hearted bitch attitude and become less of a cry-baby in the months after the new agreement between Hoffman and John. He and Amanda were slightly impressed – but God, they still hated her like _hell_...

"Go fuck yourself, bitch!" Amanda returned spiritually. Michelle shot her a black look and walked over to the door that led to their rooms.

"Uh...I wouldn't do that if I were you..." Hoffman said carefully.

Michelle either didn't hear him or ignored him, because she simply marched through the door.

Amanda grinned devilishly.

3...

2...

1...

"AAAAAHHHHHH!" Hoffman cracked up laughing as the sound of Michelle's screams echoed round the warehouse. He gave Amanda five as Michelle stormed back into the main room, her blood red hair now the dark vermillion of menstrual blood. Water ran in mini brooks down her face, dripping crystalline drops onto the floor. She was soaked through, her bra a dark outline under her T-Shirt, and she was wearing...

"Nice thong, bitch." Amanda sniggered as Hoffman eyed her up. He no longer actually did this to satisfy his cravings; he did it to piss off and terrify Michelle.

"You _bastards!_" Michelle screamed, her face livid.

"Hey, we did warn you!" Hoffman reminded her.

"Only because you motherfuckers set it up!" Michelle shot back. "I'm surprised you had the time, by the looks of things you were getting too busy and personal with each other to do any proper fucking work."

Amanda noticed Hoffman was bristling at Michelle's retort and quickly stepped in. "Michelle, please...focus on changing. Cos I don't know whether you've realised, but...you're bra's getting a bit see-through as well."

Michelle looked down at her chest and swore as Hoffman grinned wolfishly. "You want me to help you?"

Michelle told him exactly where to stick his offer of help and tried to stalk off with dignity, miniature puddles spreading behind her.

Hoffman glanced at Amanda. "So...what now?"

"_Now_ we act like we both did all of _this_." With a flourish Amanda pulled a set of fully drawn trap ideas from a folder in a desk drawer. "I worked on these last night...I had a vague feeling we wouldn't get much done."

"So that's why you didn't come to bed till late..." Hoffman gave her a look of appreciation. "You can be quite smart sometimes..."

"All the time, actually." Amanda smirked, standing and turning in the direction Michelle had gone. Hoffman wrapped his arms round her hips, pulling her back to his front.

"I was rather...disappointed." He admitted. "I was hoping to...get to know you."

Amanda laughed. "And you haven't already? God, you're hopeless!"

Hoffman turned her to face him. "You know what I mean."

Amanda tucked her head underneath his chin, feeling for the persistent heartbeat she could always hear so clearly. "You won't be disappointed...I'll make it up to you tonight. Promise."

Hoffman smiled into her hair. "Excellent." He laughed. "Let the games begin..."

* * *

"_**The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,  
She is the hopeful lady of my earth..."**_

_Lord Capulet, Act I Scene I_

Michelle tensed at the sound of the groan resounding off the concrete walls, and once again wished Hoffman were dead.

It wasn't the fact that he'd raped her and – in her honest opinion – had gotten away with it. It didn't matter to her that he'd been through so much pain and two traps to earn his second chance. Admittedly, she was glad that the bastard had lived through his lesson; no matter how much she detested him, she didn't want to see him dead, and she felt deep down that he _had_ learnt his lesson – he was just seeing how far he push the line.

It was the fact that, once again, he had...what was the phrase? Fallen on his feet.

Somehow he'd managed to still be happier than her, to have the better end of the deal than herself.

He had Amanda for forever and she had John for not even that fraction of the time. Their hourglass was running out, and as the sand trickled down, bitterness trickled in.

Mainly, that was the reason for her almost total personality change.

She needed to be stronger. For John.

Thinking about him, she forgot about what she was being forced to hear. John was a father figure to her – no, more than that...her _lover_. She dreamily fingered the ring hanging round her neck; a sign of their never ending love. Just like the thin band of metal.

But the cancer was winning the battle within him. It had shown tonight – slipping into his room, she had found him sprawled over his bed, sleeping uneasily. He'd looked so weak, so small...so _old_. It hurt her too much to even watch him, so she'd come out here to try and...just get over the hurt she was feeling.

And the jealousy.

"Ohh, _Mark!_" The cry barged rudely through her trail of thought, and she gritted her teeth.

She hated him. Not for what he'd done to her, to her body, but for being so much happier than she could ever be.

And she knew no matter how much she cared for John, she wouldn't quite be able to follow his rules.

One day, she would get revenge.

Until then, she would try and focus on those golden grainy moments flowing through that all too clear glass...

* * *

Hoffman fell heavily on Amanda's body, smashing his lips against hers as her orgasm shook her like a leaf. His own had come and gone and left him feeling drained, tired. She stilled and returned his kiss with just as much enthusiasm. He rolled off her and yanked her towards his chest, and she unobjectionably lay against him, pressing her head sleepily against his chest.

"I told you I'd make up for yesterday..." She murmured drowsily, tracing his muscles with her fingers.

"I never doubted you." Hoffman pressed his cheek against the warm silkiness of her hair, and felt a rush of just as warm love sweep over him.

In many ways, this could be seen as odd, even bizarre. Hoffman had always followed John's rules in a respect; he never let his heart get involved. If you wanted to be brutal but honest, he fucked women but felt nothing for them.

And then Amanda had come along, and somehow slowly pushed him right to the edge. And he was still falling. Deep down he knew that pinning every one of your hopes and dreams on someone was a recipe for disaster, that the smallest nudge to knock everything to pieces.

But, frankly, it was too good to let go.

And really he didn't want to.

"Y'know, I didn't think that prank we did on Michelle was going to work." Amanda wrapped her legs round his waist and he instinctively ran his hands down her legs. He closed his eyes. God, that felt good...

"Well, it was me who thought it up."

"Even more reason for something to have gone wrong."

Hoffman laughed and looked down at her face. "I'm not _that_ useless! Admit it, I'm pretty awesome."

"Arrogant sod..." Amanda leaned in.

"Too right..." Hoffman murmured, knowing exactly what she was thinking.

The kiss was without tongues, without anything in general, but that was the best kind of kiss.

Love, without added embellishments.

* * *

**iPod Playlist for Act I:**

**Playing With Fire – Ndubz feat. Mr Hudson**

**Misery Business – Paramore**

**Replay – Iyaz**

**More to come – is this better or worse than 'Turning Over...'? Please review!**


	2. Act II

"_**At this same ancient feast...**__**Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest."**_

_Benvolio, Act I Scene II_

* * *

"...Sir?"

Hoffman flung down the paperwork he had been working on with a disgusted expression and turned without enthusiasm to the junior policewoman now standing nervously in the doorway of his office. It had been difficult getting back to after his trap; everyone had been so full of very, very annoying questions about what had happened to him. However after giving the most ridiculous – or suspiciously close to the truth – questions the cold shoulder everyone had stopped bothering him and everything had gone back to dull, boring normal.

Apart from the occasional Jigsaw case. Which Hoffman found boring too, seeing as he already knew all the details before he even got to the crime scene.

"What?" He asked irritably.

The woman blinked and fidgeted at his expression; he had that impression on people. "Uh...sir? The meeting?"

"Shit!" Hoffman swore, almost fell out of his swivel chair and snatched up his coat. "Thanks...Emily, right?" He gabbled as he hurtled past her.

"It's Emma, actually!" She called after him down the corridor, but he wasn't listening.

Oh God, he was late. _Again_.

Motherfucking paperwork...

He paused outside the meeting room, pushed his hair back with one hand, prepared an explanation and stepped inside.

Erickson glared at him; even his – annoyingly neat – white toothbrush moustache seemed to quiver with indignation. "Nice to see you've finally turned up, Hoffman. What's the excuse this time?"

Hoffman said his readily formulated excuse, but he wasn't really concentrating on it.

He was more concentrating on the other people in the room with him.

The man stared at him defiantly and Hoffman took an instant dislike to him. His black hair was thickly gelled and his dark eyes held back glass-transparent contempt. His air of arrogance infuriated him; it was true, then, that the two people who are most alike would be most likely to loath each other.

But it was the woman that held Hoffman's interest. Her wavy blond hair caught expertly in a high-backed ponytail, her bow-shaped lips had only been partway on the journey to the water in the transparent plastic cup, and the shock in her doe brown eyes as Hoffman had entered the room was just as see-through.

"Ah, I see you've noticed our guests," Erickson commented sarcastically, following Hoffman's gaze; he knew all too well what a womanizer Hoffman could be. "Hoffman, this is Special Agent Peter Strahm," Strahm nodded imperiously at him. Hoffman just looked at him; the tension was increasingly visible... "And this is Special Agent Lindsey Perez."

"Hi." Perez said softly. Hoffman's nod towards her was slightly softer, and Strahm sensed it; he increased his glare on Hoffman. Hoffman openly smirked; Strahm's feelings about Lindsey weren't exactly opaque...

The meeting was blurry, the details unrefined. On leaving the room Perez nodded slightly towards Hoffman's office. Hoffman himself pretended to ignore the gesture, but walked into his office all the same. She followed, shutting the door quietly behind her.

"Mark..." She whispered.

"Lindsey," He replied evenly, turning to face her. The history between them was evident by the looks they gave each other – but only on her part. Mark's face was blank, emotionless.

There was always some kind of problem, no matter what he did...

"It's been a long time." Perez said with a small smile.

"Yeah, it has." Hoffman shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. They had met up on the same police course, and instantly been taken in by each other. The – what other trainee officers called it at the time – 'bad romance' (Hoffman still didn't listen to Lady Gaga) had lasted for the whole course, but then Hoffman's sister had been murdered and the two of them had drifted apart. Slowly but surely they lost all contact.

At that time Hoffman had been sure that there were no feelings left between them. However now, in his office, he had a very big hunch that Perez hadn't completely let go.

The problem with that was he had.

Perez took another step forward, her eyes questioning. Hoffman shook his head. "Sorry," He said. "I'm already taken."

Perez nodded. "Of course. Well, I should've expected that...after all this time..." Hoffman had a bad feeling she was about to start crying. "I...I'd better go." She walked out hurriedly.

As the door shut behind her Hoffman swore to himself and flopped back in his chair. This was going to be awkward.

Earlier he had thought things would be dully, boringly normal. Now he would've done anything to get back to the dull boring normal that wouldn't – predictably – get out of hand...

* * *

"_O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?"_

"_**What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?"**_

"_The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine."_

"_**I gave thee mine before thou didst request it:  
And yet I would it were to give again."**_

_Exchange between __Romeo __and __**Juliet**__, Act II Scene II_

For the hundredth time, Amanda's eyes found the clock on the wall. Tiredly she rubbed them and looked down at her trap.

It was completed. And completely inescapable.

Sighing, she went to find John to tell him she'd finished. Eagerly, she pictured the scene John would make when he discovered that the trap was inescapable. He would take more notice of her; that much was certain.

And that was the one thing she longed for most in the whole world...

Rounding the corner, she found John slumped against the wall, his body racked with painful-sounding coughs.

"John!" Amanda cried out with alarm and crouched by his slumped form. Helping him to his feet once the coughing had subsided, she half carried, half supported him into the 'medical room' and let him collapse on the bed there.

"You want some water?" She asked softly. John smiled weakly and nodded, still out of breath from his coughing fit. Filling a plastic cup with cold water, Amanda inserted a straw into it and helped John drink from it. As he drank, she felt her feelings for him surface once again, as they always did when they were alone together.

When Hoffman wasn't there to fill in the spaces...

She glanced again, anxiously, at the clock on the wall. Michelle shouldn't – couldn't – be back yet. Not for a while anyway...

John finished drinking and Amanda realised that he still had a few drops of blood encrusted on his lips. Gently she brushed them off, and John smiled.

"Please don't do that, Amanda," He half joked. "You're making me feel too old!"

"You'll never be too old," Amanda's voice wavered but stayed firm as she brushed her hand softly through his hair. "Not to me..."

John realised what she was thinking and the smile left his face. "Amanda..."

Amanda didn't let him finish: she kissed him furiously full on the mouth, using what she liked to call her 'power kiss' that kept the man she chose at her will. Lashing her tongue with his, she placed her hand on the crotch of his jeans, smirking a little as she felt it hardening.

John wavered and almost submitted to Amanda's will, but Michelle's face flashed in front of his closed eyelids. He shoved her backwards, hard. "Amanda," He said harshly. "No!"

Amanda tried frantically to blink back her tears. "Don't you dare reject me, no now, not ever!"

"Amanda, I've told you so many times, we can't!" John cried exasperatedly. "Are you out of your mind? You can't keep trying to take advantage over my condition like this – it's not right!"

"I'm sorry," Amanda said in a very small voice. "I didn't mean...it was a mistake –"

"You _always_ say that!" John stood, his eyes flashing. "This keeps on happening, and I can't allow it! Remember what I said to you, that time when you tried to give yourself to me as cheaply as any prostitute? Think about Hoffman! He agreed to those terms chiefly to be with you, don't you understand what the consequences of these 'mistakes' could be if he ever finds out?"

"...But I love you." The words chilled John to the bone.

He shook his head slowly, and then took note of Amanda's face. He allowed himself to feel a morsel of pity and forgiveness. "Amanda, I love you too...but as a beloved daughter – I wouldn't have it any other way."

They looked at each other in silence. Then there was the crashing sound of a door opening; Michelle was back.

"I'll be fine." John nodded at Amanda. She nodded back, got up and left in a daze; she knew a dismissal when she heard one.

John watched her leave. He was worried, that much was certain. It seemed only he could tell that Amanda's infatuation with both himself and Hoffman was on a time limit.

And when that time limit ran out, it would inevitably bring about certain disaster to them all and all they had worked for together...

Like a sleepwalker she went into her room and turned the volume of her iPod speakers up so loud her ears rang to block out the sounds of John and Michelle showing their love to each other.

She hated that bitch; always would.

Lying back, the tears seeping beneath her closed eyelids, Amanda decided not to show John her trap.

She remembered only then that Hoffman was all that John was not, and vice versa.

And she realised that no matter how much she loved Hoffman, she knew who – if he actually let her – she would choose when it came to a choice between the two men she loved and lived for.

Every single time.

* * *

**Hope everyone's enjoying this so far! I know I am...hehehe...**


	3. Act III

"_**Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,  
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy  
That one short minute gives me in her sight:  
Do thou but close our hands with holy words,  
Then love-devouring death do what he dare;  
It is enough I may but call her mine."**_

_Romeo, Act II Scene VI_

* * *

Hoffman turned over again and tried to make Amanda suddenly materialize in front of him. It didn't work. Where the fuck _was_ that girl...?

Sighing, he lay back and stared up at the bare concrete ceiling, almost indiscernible in the almost absolute darkness. The heat wave which had lasted for most of the Summer already made the dark nights uncomfortably sauna like, with no wind or cloud; a hell-like calm. It didn't take much a scientist or weatherman to realise that a pretty violent thunderstorm was on its way...

For the past few weeks, there had been a strange kind of tension in the air. Michelle had caught on that her relationship between herself and John was being threatened, and she already knew who was threatening it...

Amanda meanwhile kept on making her 'mistakes' and made very sure to bring Michelle down a thousand pegs whenever she and John were around, hoping to prove a point to him. She loved Hoffman, but still...

John had observed the way that Amanda kept pushing Michelle down like an insect ready to be squashed and was saddened and disappointed with Amanda. He hadn't wanted her to turn out like this, but it seemed that there was no stopping her...and when she preyed on him, he knew that he _couldn't_ stop her. But he never gave in to her advances, at the same time never telling Michelle the affirmative to what she suspected...the thing that scared John the most, however, was what Hoffman might do if he ever found out...

Hoffman himself, however, was completely oblivious to the atmosphere as heated as the steaming vacuum outside; he had his own problems...

It was becoming more and more obvious each day that Perez still wanted him and try as he might he couldn't escape her forever; she seemed to be everywhere he went, the sad, wistful expression on her face making things even more awkward.

Strahm wasn't helping at all; in fact, he was making things worse. From the moment he'd seen Hoffman he'd taken an instant dislike to the man, but the fact that Perez – the woman he was falling for – was falling for the bastard galled him. His loathing increased and the tension between the two men couldn't be erased – it had gotten to a point that people actually breathed a sigh of relief when either of them left the room.

Tonight, Hoffman wanted more than anything to forget the stress he was going through at work. But it was a bit difficult to do that when the person he needed to help him forget wasn't there...

As he gave up waiting and tried to fall asleep in the stuffy darkness, he felt something cool click closed around his wrists, first one then the other. A slight tug confirmed his feelings of deja-vu, and he smiled.

Amanda suddenly loomed in front of him, his only knowledge of this the sudden comforting weight on his chest. "I told you I wanted to do this again..." She breathed.

Hoffman laughed. "Only because it's the one chance you get at getting yourself one over me." He casually scanned the darkness in front of him, hoping to get a glimpse of her face, her body. "Although I thought we were going to do this for our anniversary..."

"You make us sound like some kind of married couple!"

Hoffman grinned and leaned forward as far as he could, hoping to brush his lips over the soft skin of her cleavage and the peachy curves of her breasts. He had calculated her position perfectly, and felt her breathing hitch. "You wanna give it a try?"

He felt her slowly peel the thin sheet that partially covered him – the only thing he could bear against the heat – back from his lower torso, and shivered expectantly. "You know me," Amanda said slowly, teasingly. "Uncontrollable..."

"Point taken..." Hoffman whimpered as Amanda ran her tongue down the length of him. She began her very slow torture of his body; the almost exact routine of the very first time. "'Mandy...it's too hot...I can't take..."

Amanda paused in her activities and smirked at him through the darkness, the taste of him still on her tongue. "And isn't that that the point?" She whispered.

And then she really got started.

Afterwards they both lay there; unnecessarily hot and unable to fall asleep, despite the fact both of them were tired out.

"Y'know, I don't think I was all that depressed before..." Amanda said suddenly.

Hoffman chuckled quietly. "Bit random, 'Mandy...so, what exactly was your turning point? Me?"

"No hope in hell, mate!" Amanda laughed, then laid her head back and idly traced her fingers over Hoffman's upper torso, remembering. "It was just after I'd got fixed up for carrying drugs. I was set up, I swear I was...I was 16, my whole future in front of me...and then I got a criminal record for something I hadn't done." Somehow she knew Hoffman was nodding sympathetically, and she smiled. "Then again, I hadn't been being very good to myself anyway. I'd started cutting two or three years before that to take my mind off the fact I was ostracised by everyone, even my own mother. My life was a pretty massive superblackhole at that point, but I'd always hoped that once I'd got a good career...well, that plan collapsed, and I pretty much broke down in the police station.

"No-one was really listening to me, it was all, 'Well, you shouldn't have done it then, should you?' I was just sitting there, crying so hard I actually couldn't see...and then someone put their arms round me and gave me some massive hug. Usually it was only my stepfather did this, but that was only when he was drunk and wanted...something out of me. I was shit-scared, punching him so hard. I don't know how he did it but he just kept hold of me, and in the end I just didn't have the energy left.

"So I blurted it out, the whole sob story of my crap excuse of a life. I still couldn't see him, but I...I just _knew_ he was properly listening, not judging me or anything. After I'd finished he didn't say a word, he was just..._there_, if you know what I mean. A while later he left. I asked who he was, but all I found out was that he was still a trainee...I guess he was pretty young then, 20 or 21 or something like that. Anyway, I'm around his age now...I don't think I'll ever get to thank him properly for what he did."

"But he didn't do anything." Hoffman murmured.

"He did the best thing possible...he showed me that someone actually cared...no-one ever did that for me. Ever."

Hoffman paused, and then said abruptly, "Can you undo my handcuffs now?"

Startled by his tone of voice, Amanda unthinkingly obeyed.

Hoffman slid his arms round her waist and pulled her tightly to him. "Any deja-vu yet?" He whispered.

The penny dropped. "Mark..." Amanda tried to see his face. "Thank you." She heard her own timid voice and winced, but Hoffman just laughed.

"You don't need to say that."

"I do!" She rested her head against his chest, muzzily remembering every single detail.

"Yeah well, I told you I had something to do with your U-turn! Admit it, I'm awesome!"

"Yeah, right." She muttered, but she wasn't really listening; something had just struck her hard.

Their bodies were both different from that time all that time ago, and the truth was that they were both aging, slowly and steadily.

And ageing usually led to death.

And she didn't want to live without the arrogant but sexy detective.

Hoffman was on the same track of thoughts, but a sudden sense of inexplicable dread overcame him. He gripped Amanda – if possible – even tighter. "'Mandy?"

"Yeah?" She mumbled into his flesh.

"Please...don't leave me, yeah?"

Amanda kissed him. "I said I was never going to leave you," She said softly. "And I meant it."

But as they both succumbed to their fatigue, Hoffman's apprehension was right, because – although they didn't quite know it yet – it was the beginning of the end.

* * *

**I know I haven't got the ages right, but still...**

**The storm breaks next chapter...**


	4. Act IV

"_**...if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl;  
For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring."**_

_Benvolio, Act III Scene I_

* * *

"...Hoffman?"

Hoffman stood up, banged his head on a shelf, and swore loudly. Perez giggled as he turned to her, massaging the top of his head. "What's up?" He grumbled, giving her the full benefit of his glaring skills.

"...Why have you been avoiding me?" She asked abruptly.

Ah. Hoffman groaned inwardly as Perez closed the door of the store cupboard they were in and turned back to him with her hands on her hips and a 'don't talk bullshit to me' expression on her face. He'd known that this awkward moment was coming; on the plus side, it wouldn't be as awkward as all the times he had to work with her.

"I haven't," He lied. "I've just been...busy." Well, _that_ part, at least, was true.

Perez took a step closer, and somehow the light softened her facial expression. "With your girlfriend, right?" Hoffman suddenly became uncomfortably aware of how small the store cupboard was, how close Perez was to him... "She's so lucky to have you..."

Hoffman caught onto the wistfulness of her tone and as she took another step towards him he desperately made for the door. "Look, Lindsey," He said urgently as he moved past her. "I'm sorry you still...care for me, but I already lo – Mmmph!"

He never got to finish. Perez smashed him against the store cupboard wall, and before he could shove her off she was kissing him so hard that he was sure his lip had split. Her hands crushed his upper arms, cutting off his blood circulation. Struggling was completely futile, and he was praying frantically to any God that would be passing in his vicinity to get someone to get him out of here _now_ when the door opened and the sudden light – sudden after the dim glow of the single bulb above his head, that is – streamed in.

As Perez quickly let go of him and he raised an arm to shield his eyes from the light so he could see his saviour, he heard Perez squeal foolishly, "Oh, Strahm! What are you doing here?"

Oh. Bugger.

"Finding out what was keeping Mark Hoffman," Blinking away the white spots from his eyes, Hoffman saw Strahm glaring at him and Perez looking flushed and nervous. "I think I now know..."

Oh _shit_...

"I...I'll see you later, Mark..." Perez flustered. Oh, _great_ time to use his first time.

And she was going to leave him with a man about to totally annihilate him.

As Perez ran off round the corner, Strahm gripped Hoffman's arm, dragged him out of the store cupboard and slammed him against the wall, his face ferocious. Hoffman winced. "If I say I have a pretty good explanation, will you let go of my arm? I swear to God I have internal as well as external bruising..."

"Fuck you, Hoffman," Strahm snarled. "I don't have time for any of your lies – you were playing around with her, weren't you?"

"What –" Hoffman shook his head slowly. "Look, I already love someone else, why would I want –"

"So you're cheating on someone now?" Strahm hissed, digging his nails into Hoffman's arm. "I pity the poor woman...she probably doesn't realise what kind of son of a bitch she's fucking at night..."

"Piss off, Strahm," Hoffman spat, his infamous temper roused by Strahm's remark. "I wasn't trying it on with Perez – just because I could've accidentally got further with her than you'll ever get –"

Strahm let out a scream of pure rage and released Hoffman's arm. Hoffman dived onto the floor with enough time to see Strahm's fist strike the wall where his head had been mere seconds ago. Strahm screamed probably every swear word under the sun as he gripped his crushed knuckles with his other free hand.

Hoffman got to his feet. The two men exchanged a look, and it spoke more of their hatred of each other than any words could ever say.

Then Hoffman turned on his heel and walked away.

"Bastard..." Strahm muttered, and he turned in the opposite direction, hoping to nurse his damaged knuckles, his damaged ego and his damaged love for Perez.

And if either of them had looked back, they would've see a female silhouette slip quietly out the fire escape and clatter quietly down the cast iron stairs to the ground, before running quickly away from the scene.

If they had cared to take in any details, they would've noticed that her hair was died blood red...

* * *

"_**What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus?  
This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell...**__**What storm is this that blows so contrary?...**__**O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face!  
Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?  
Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!  
Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb!  
Despised substance of divinest show!  
Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st,  
A damned saint, an honourable villain!  
O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell,  
When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend  
In moral paradise of such sweet flesh?  
Was ever book containing such vile matter  
So fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell  
In such a gorgeous palace!"**_

_Juliet, Act III Scene II_

It was like someone had slapped Amanda round the face. "You little _bitch!_" She lunged at Michelle's throat.

Michelle dodged Amanda's attack in the nick of time. "It's what I saw!"

Amanda looked a mess, as if with Michelle's news the storm had already broken on her face. She was falling apart at the seams of her sanity, the rope that was keeping her up from a black bottomless abyss unwinding. "You lying _cow!_" She whispered, shaking her head. "He wouldn't...you just want revenge on him for what he _did to you!_" The last words came out as a screech.

Michelle backed away, her face grey with shock at Amanda's reaction to what she'd seen at the store cupboard. "I swear to God that's what I saw," She whimpered, even though she had her doubts. "I'm not taking revenge for _anything_." She sniffed, even though deep at the back of her mind there was a warm glow similar to the kind you have when you get a sugar rush. It was indeed sweet to see the two people she hated most being destroyed, but guilt was gnawing at her conscience and made her feel sick; she shouldn't have said that, Amanda shouldn't have known...

Amanda's face crumpled and she slumped onto her hands and knees on the concrete floor of the warehouse. "No," She gasped, the tears coming so fast a dam was building in her throat, slowly suffocating her. "No, no, no..."

Michelle witnessed Amanda's breakdown silently, coolly. Then, feeling like this wasn't something she should be watching, she retreated into her own room.

Only then did she let herself smile. But only then.

Amanda recovered and stood slowly, breathing deeply. Rage replaced her grief, and she gripped the table edge so hard that her knuckles showed white through her skin.

Hoffman was dead.

* * *

This time, Hoffman sensed the atmosphere in the warehouse. He'd got in quickly because black clouds were forming and the predicted storm was coming, but he'd stopped dead in his tracks when he'd seen Amanda's face. "'Mandy?" He asked cautiously. "Are you ok?" There was no reaction. He went right up to her and cupped her cheek with his hand. "What's wrong?...'Mandy?"

"_Don't call me that!_" Hoffman reeled backward with the force of her slap. Pressing his hand to the throbbing side of his face, he felt a trickle of something warm run down his cheek; Amanda had clearly scratched him in some way.

"What the fuck...?" He asked, confused.

"Don't you _dare_ act all fucking innocent, like you didn't make out with that bitch!" Amanda screamed. "Don't you _dare!_"

"Amanda, that's not what happened!" Hoffman caught onto what she was talking about and his heart almost stopped beating. He glanced quickly at the 'medical room'.

"Don't worry, John's out." Amanda spat. "Only Michelle's here, and surprisingly she's more truthful than I thought..."

Hoffman's temper rose again. "So you're going to believe the word over that little transvestite over mine?" He hissed dangerously, already formulating plans in his mind to kill the red-head in her sleep – or ASAP, whichever came first. "I love you, what more do you want from me?"

"To be more truthful!"

"I _am_ being truthful!" Hoffman yelled. "What the hell has that cow done for you for you to –"

"Shut the fuck up, Hoffman!" Amanda shot back, her face livid. "I owe her, I owe her for everything I've fucking done –" She realised what she'd said. Before she could stop herself she felt her eyes widening, her hand sliding over her mouth too late to stop herself from talking.

Hoffman stiffened. "What. What have you done."

But they both knew what she'd done.

"_You love him," He said it out loud, and he was surprised at how much it hurt him. "You'd rather it were you in there fucking John, not that bitch."_

"How many times?" He whispered. The room seemed slightly out of focus all of a sudden; he focused on Amanda's burning face. "_How many times?_"

Amanda said nothing. Her eyes said it all.

"All the while you were with me...every single night...you were pretending I was John." His voice shook with revulsion, with pain. "Every single fucking _time_..." He slammed his fist down suddenly on the table top; it was made louder by the first of the thunder booming overhead.

"He was a better kisser than you," Amanda broke her silence. Hoffman said nothing; he was still, immobilized. The rain poured down the metal roof. "He would've probably been a better fucker, too," She hissed; it hurt to hurt him, but damn it felt good to know that even though his face was emotionless she was stamping on his heart. Serves him right. "He's everything you're not, how can you possibly expect –"

Hoffman suddenly turned and walked past her. As he did so he brushed her arm with his; it felt unnaturally stiff.

Hearing the sound of his door closing, Amanda listened for a second to the consistent patter of the rain growing louder and louder over her head. She was slightly disappointed; she had really been getting stuck into the pain she was causing Hoffman.

As she made her way too her room, a flash of lightning caused her to frown.

As the roll of thunder followed, she wondered why she felt like she'd lost something...

And Hoffman, in his room, knew already that he had.

* * *

**Hope you're enjoying!**


	5. Act V

"_**This day's black fate on more days doth depend;  
This but begins the woe, others must end."**_

_Romeo, Act III Scene I_

* * *

It was soon after that that Hoffman killed Michelle in the back alley behind that pub. It was cold-blooded murder, his eyes as icy as the steel of the knife which he plunged into her body, despite her desperate pleas for mercy.

In his shattered state of mind, she'd deserved what she got.

Because, in that one conversation where he'd lost everything, he'd decided he'd destroy everything he knew.

Because it was the one way to break connections with everything he still felt towards, and to stop himself from feeling.

* * *

When Amanda saw Michelle's dead, blood encrusted body, she looked at Hoffman and just _knew_.

Leaving John with the body, Amanda pulled Hoffman through her bedroom door, shut it – and then let rip.

Quietly, though.

"Why?" She hissed. "What the fuck did that achieve, apart from helping blow up your ego which I'd hoped had been destroyed by now. And don't you dare say that she had it coming, because she didn't!"

Hoffman didn't deign to answer her question. "You seem awfully fond of that bitch when you always made out you hated her guts," He commented. "We're you hiding your lesbianism from me as well?"

Amanda spat at him. "You're lucky I don't tell John what you did." She said venomously.

Hoffman smirked, the only emotion he'd shown so far. "You're forgetting, Mandy, that I know a lot of your little secrets as well. And speaking of murderers..." He paused to take in Amanda's petrified expression. "Inescapable traps and an unborn baby, tut tut Amanda –"

"You wouldn't dare..." Amanda bluffed weakly, but the inhuman, emotionless look on Hoffman's face told her the exact opposite.

"Oh, I'd dare all right." Hoffman pushed his face right up close to hers. "I'd dare." He planted a mocking kiss on her cheek and walked out the room, leaving her shaken and not a little scared.

* * *

"...John?" Amanda peered into the medical room.

It was 3 days after the funeral.

John was staring sightlessly into space. He knew something wasn't right, that a bond between Amanda and Hoffman had been broken, and he knew that Hoffman knew about Amanda's mistakes.

He also knew about Amanda's mistakes. The traps and the monster she was creating.

But at that point of time, he was too wrapped up in grief to care; Michelle was dead, and he hadn't been able to stop it.

He had been at least trying to move, but he'd given up now – there wasn't anything left to move _for_. Besides, the cancer was advancing more rapidly now and he had more than a gut feeling that he was – so to speak – on his last legs.

Death seemed kinder now; he had a strong belief that he would see Michelle again...

"Shit, John..." Michelle leaned over him, concerned; she had never seen him as bad as this and had hoped she never would. She hated Hoffman even more for the heartache he had caused John.

"Amanda..." John said awkwardly as she hugged him. He already knew about the inescapable traps and he was saddened by that also, because of what it meant he had to do...

"Sorry." Amanda pulled away sharply. John smiled weakly.

"You don't need to apologise for anything." He said sadly.

_Indeed, it should be me apologising to you..._

Amanda nodded and walked out of the room in a daze.

Inside she could feel herself screaming.

When she'd hugged him, she'd felt nothing. Nothing at all. And that could only mean one thing; if she didn't love John...

Without conscious thought Amanda picked up a knife and held it against the bare flesh of her arm.

_I'm sorry, Hoffman. For this and everything else._

The blood dirtied the blade, and trickled in seemingly harmless rivers of red down her arm.

* * *

It was true that the heart couldn't be involved, otherwise emotions would destroy you; that much Hoffman knew.

Standing before the open drawer with Amanda's doom printed in black ballpoint ink scribbled hastily inside an envelope, he hesitated.

He only had himself to blame, however; he was the one who had let himself get so caught up in Amanda, and he was the one who had to undo all the pain he was feeling before it was too late.

The key to untangle himself from his emotions was to stop feeling.

And that was why he had to do this; for his sake, as it should have always been.

He threw the seemingly harmless message in the drawer and slammed it shut before walking out with the test pictures he had received from the also doomed John.

He didn't once look back.

* * *

Somehow Amanda knew.

She knew when she picked up the envelope.

She knew when – with dread – she opened it.

She knew she shouldn't be crying. But she was.

Raising the gun as Lynn cried for 'Jeff', Amanda knew she shouldn't be this weak to give in to Hoffman's will.

But she was.

She always was.

_I'm sorry, John. I thought I'd chosen the right path._ She thought as the bullet found her throat.

John was thinking the same as the saw buzzed across his exposed neck.

But that was how it was.

Tragic, really.

* * *

Strahm never did admit his feelings to Perez. Mostly, the only feelings he showed were his unadulterated loathing for Hoffman; if he suddenly seemed more distant, so much the better.

In truth, the best time to have admitted his feelings would have been when the puppet had exploded in her face, when she'd fallen into his arms; a silver screen movie.

But Hoffman was right; he never would get any further with Perez than he had – wouldn't even get that far.

That was what spurred on his suspicions of Hoffman in the first place, when he'd narrowly escaped death. And his hatred practically took him to his crushing defeat.

Well, you know what you say; you can't cheat death twice...

And moreover, Perez never said anything about her growing feelings for Strahm. After her obvious rejection from Hoffman, her feelings began to grow on the dark, silent man she had to call her partner.

That was how she found out more about him; that was how she didn't believe Erickson when he told her that Strahm was Jigsaw's protégée.

It didn't surprise her, then, that Hoffman was the man behind it all.

And because she couldn't let herself go from Hoffman entirely, she let him kill her.

Amanda and Perez were more alike than they ever knew...

* * *

_It was always the same._

_Totally, utterly the same._

_Oh, at first it wouldn't be so bad; he would see the faces of the people he'd killed or tested – some sad, some angry, so running at him screaming._

_But he could get past that._

_But then a figure would get closer and closer, and even if he closed his eyes its image would be engrained on his eyelids._

_Closer and closer, until – even though he always knew who it was – 'it' turned to 'her'._

_And – as she always had been – she was different._

_She was just stare at him; stare and stare._

_No hate or love or anger or fear or sadness; he would've preferred that._

_Just the searching gaze._

_He wanted her to shout at him, try to hurt him, even weep – all those things would hurt him, but not as badly._

_Just being silently watched, stating the facts as easily as saying the time:_

"_You killed me, yet you loved me."_

_No confusion or emotion._

_Just the facts._

_All held in that silent gaze._

_He would've moved forward and held her tight, but he couldn't move._

_He would've tried to call her name, plead with her, ANYTHING just so that she could come that little bit closer so that he could...he could..._

_He could never apologise; for what he had done, there could be none of that._

_And then – after an eternity of torture – he would open his mouth, try to find the words, fail to find them and instead cry her name – _

"Amanda! AMANDA, PLEASE!"

And it would always be then that he'd find himself awake, her presence gone.

It would take some minutes to untangle himself again from his net of emotions; it took just seconds to angrily swipe at the tears, curse himself for being such a fool.

He never went back to sleep afterwards; he would simply get on with his weary fate, like Atlas and his globe – it was Atlas, right...?

That was why Hoffman never slept; in the day he could distance himself from his emotions, but at night his heart was broken again and again and again...

* * *

Hoffman screamed again and pressed a hand against the right hand side of his jaw, hoping for the millionth that somehow – miraculously – it would glue itself back onto his face.

It didn't.

So much for bloody miracles...

It had been a whole hour – or around that time – since Jill had left him for dead. The pain had faded to a dull throb, but more worryingly the room was starting to blur and refocus. He knew the side effects of blood loss, and it was becoming harder and harder to remain conscious.

And he knew, almost certainly, that no help was coming.

As his vision fuzzed yet again, Hoffman thought wearily that maybe this was for the best; no more dreams, no more battling with emotions that he just couldn't suppress.

Death already felt peaceful.

As he gave up the fight to stay upright and slumped to his knees, through his darkening sight he saw an even darker figure step through the door and just stand there, looking down at him.

Hoffman smiled weakly; it seemed right that she was there at the moment of his demise.

And, unlike his dreams, he found he could still speak.

"Amanda..." He mumbled.

And then the peace took over and he fell the rest of the way to the floor.

* * *

**Last chapter coming up!**

**Please read 'My Life' by xXErineilXx – it's hilarious and has a very good amount of muffins and randomness; my kind of story!**


	6. Exeunt

"_**...how is it with her?  
Doth she not think me an old murderer,  
Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy  
With blood removed but little from her own?  
Where is she? and how doth she? and what says  
My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love?"**_

"_**Blister'd be thy tongue  
For such a wish! he was not born to shame:  
Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit..."**_

_**Romeo, Act III Scene III**_

_**Juliet, Act III Scene II**_

* * *

Amanda couldn't breathe.

Frantically she scrabbled her fingers at her neck, trying to find the twisted metal of the bullet so that she could pluck it from her flesh.

Bandages.

The only reason that she couldn't breathe were the strips of flimsy gauze wrapped too tight around her neck.

Confused (dot com) Amanda looked around.

Adding to her confusion – _who _had fixed her neck, and _why_ – she realised that she wasn't in 'the medical room' or, indeed, any other part of the warehouse she had – she only realised now – called home.

"I had to move you," A voice came from the shadows. Amanda scrambled to her feet, ready to scream, but as she tried to a dizzying burst of pain blew her mind to shreds, so she sat back down again. The man chuckled and continued. "The place is swarming with FBI and...doctors, perhaps..."

_Hoffman_, Amanda thought. She tried to ask about him, but the burst of pain was overwhelming.

Then she realised.

_She couldn't speak._

The man must have noticed her agitation, because he seemingly allowed the shadows to pull apart from his face.

If Amanda had been able to speak a single syllable, it would've been a very, very shocked "YOU!"

"Hello Amanda." Said Doctor Lawrence Gordon with a wry smile.

* * *

She learnt a lot in the days that followed.

On the second day – after she'd grumpily got some rest after the bombshell that had been Lawrence Gordon – he explained to her why he was still around.

"John found me when I was crawling from the bathroom," He sighed deeply, staring into space and sipping from a mug of tea. _How frigging English,_ Amanda thought. _Pity he's AMERICAN...what the hell's wrong with coffee, I ask you?_ "It took me a while, but in the end he convinced me to stay and help him...set up his games." Amanda saw a flicker of disapproval in his light coloured eyes. "That was why he was out on the day you and Hoffman..."

At that Amanda – forgetting – tried to ask him again about Hoffman, but all that came out was her gasp as pain's teeth sank into her throat. Lawrence frowned, concerned; Amanda noticed that lines were already marring his face. _This has taken so much out of him..._She felt a pang of loss for his wife and child; they would never see him again, ever.

"You'd better get some rest, Amanda." Lawrence said sternly. He shook his head a fraction when she squeaked in protest. "Who's the doctor here, again?"

Amanda sighed exasperatedly and simply let him carry her back to her bed.

On the third day she found out she may never be able to talk again.

"The bullet broke the wall of your windpipe," He broke the news to her gently. "I managed to fix it in time, but...there's going to be some permanent scarring. I don't know how badly it's going to affect your talking – you can't do it now...and I'm afraid there's a good chance you'll never be able to again, if the scarring blocks off too much of your windpipe. You'll still be able to breathe, though!" He added quickly.

Amanda looked down at her hands, tears blurring her sight. All those words she wanted to say to Hoffman – 'sorry' being one of them – might never be said.

Lawrence leaned forward, noticing her distress. "You don't need to worry about Hoffman," He said softly, coolly. "He's a complete arsehole anyway, look at all the damage he's caused...I can get you out of this mess, but you've got to keep remembering that he caused all this. Forget about him; if I had my way I'd anonymously tip off the FBI on him; it's what he deserves..."

Amanda stood up so suddenly that her chair tipped over. She glared at him. _How DARE he? It's not his fault, it never has been!_ She thought angrily.

Lawrence met her furious gaze. "Ok, ok." He said quietly. "I know you love him."

Amanda felt herself start to cry again. Lawrence stood up and wrapped his arms round her, just standing there, being there, while she sobbed her broken heart out.

On the fifth day Lawrence said that she could try to eat something. She chose chicken soup; apparently it was meant to be soothing. It hurt like hell, burning past her scars, but at least it took her mind off her other pains.

On the seventh day Lawrence took off the bandages. Amanda just stared into the mirror, stared at the ugly mass of scar tissue which clumped at her throat like a tumour. She felt the tears coming again.

"It will go down in time." Lawrence reminded her. "In the end hopefully you'll hardly see it, with a bit of concealer..."

But it didn't stop Amanda from wearing a scarf round her throat.

A deep red velvety mulberry; she liked that colour and its rich softness.

And then, seven days after that, Lawrence poked his head round the door of her 'bedroom'.

"He's here." He smiled slightly. "You should go to see him.

And she knew exactly who he meant by 'he'.

* * *

Hoffman hissed and pressed a hand to the side of his face; he'd just tried to say 'WHAT THE FUCK?' and gotten a ripping feeling from the side of his jaw that was stitched up.

"Congratulations, you are still alive." Someone said sarcastically. Turning his head to see whoever it was, his eyes widened.

"Yes, I _am_ still alive," Lawrence snapped. "You're here because it isn't safe for you to go back yet. And, btw," He pointed at Hoffman's stitched up jaw. "Because of _that_ you won't be talking for a while. Which in my opinion is an added plus. God knows why she still loves you..."

Hoffman glared at him, only comprehending what Lawrence was saying a few seconds after he'd actually finished.

_She...?_

It was...was it?

Lawrence took in his expression and smirked. "I'll go and get her." He got up and left, closing the door with a snick.

Hoffman's mind was whirling. Part of him was so ecstatic that Amanda was alive; it would give him a chance to...to...

And that was where the problems were. Did she really still love him or did she hate him for everything he'd done to her?

Still trying to figure out what Amanda's reaction would be, he heard a soft click from behind him.

The door had quietly been opened and closed; he slowly turned round.

The first thing that struck him was that she was so..._thin_. Here eyes seemed larger and darker in their sockets, and her skin was sale pale that the deep red scarf round her neck looked almost black.

Meeting his shocked gaze, Amanda slowly pulled off the scarf, revealing – for the first time – the extent of the damage.

Hoffman breathed in sharply.

_Oh my God..._

She moved over to him, and he stood, not making eye contact; there was no way she could ever like him for this, let alone _love_...

Amanda saw him look away from her and swallowed, bracing herself for the pain; she had been practising for this...

"_Mark..._" Her voice was rough and the pain split white lines over her vision, but she'd done it.

Hoffman finally met her gaze. It's difficult to explain what went on between them in that look, but somehow they both just knew what the other was trying to say.

But of course there were no words to be said – couldn't be said; sorry was one of them.

Hoffman gently covered the mass of scars with his hand, and tentatively Amanda placed her fingertips on his stitches. Then they wrapped their spare arms round each other; no kisses, just being there for each other.

Hoffman didn't realise that he was crying until he realised that Amanda was doing the same, the warm wetness rolling down the skin of his chest. He held her tighter, his own vision blurring as he ran his fingers over her scars and she did the same to his.

Everything was broken.

Her damaged neck, his damaged jaw, their damaged love.

But time was the best doctor there was (sorry, Lawrence); it could heal.

And that was the best either of them could hope for.

* * *

"_**...For never was a story of more woe  
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo."**_

_Prince, Act V Scene III_

* * *

**THE END!!!**

**Sorry for the bits of randomness ( etc) I just felt like putting them in.**

**I know I completely missed out Act IV, but who the hell cares? Maybe you could give me better quotes I could've used.**

**Hope you enjoyed!!!!**


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